Spy's Spy
by Nimrowdel
Summary: Formerly a one-shot fic about Tonks and Snape in the spy-game. Bit of a romp. Warning: Written while author was severely sleep-deprived.
1. Appetite

The night pressed against her, that sweet lake-tinged air drifted in the damp dungeon halls. Night thirteen. One more day and night and her task would be completed upon placing the written report on her bosses desk. Top marks in disguise had paid off, for this was her forte. The extra talent of shape-shifting was only a bonus to her powerful invisibility spells. Of course, she was still clumsy, but rarely on the job. Once her instincts kicked in, the awkward movements and frequent accidents were not often a problem.

He moved and she followed close behind. Too close. The man had a flair for the dramatics and it would not do to be caught in a sudden robe billow, but it was the only way to enter the chambers at the same time. She slipped by, and was in a shadow before he could even close the door after himself.

There was a crackle around him of tension and unease, and a part of her began to wonder if two weeks was too long to tail this man before he noticed something. Two weeks was too long to spend constantly watching any person, let alone an aloof mystery. She had done this before many times, and went about it with no personal interference. Once it was in the report, it was shed from her memory. Nymphadora Tonks had no love for the secret lives of others. This man was no different.

He was obviously lonely, bitter and in need of a good hug. She had read his depressing journals without guilt, absorbing every detail of his past in a methodical attempt to piece together the man that was Severus Snape. He had become too important too the Order to have secrets of his own, and on Dumbledore's hesitantly given command she had been assigned to her prey.

The two weeks may well have been wasted, though. In that time she had learned many facts about him, but almost nothing about who he was under the guise of professional malice. It had been neither pain nor pleasure to watch him, but she was rather intrigued at what could be hiding beneath the stern, malicious figure who picked fights at Order meetings.

The room setting was no different from the evenings of the last twelve, as he emerged from the dining hall after supper and entered into his domain. Candlelit, gloomy and devoid of any resemblance to humanity in the poor excuse for decor. He was different, however. She watched him peel off his potion stained robes, the black to cover them, and pad to the shower. A few minutes later he returned, clean and refreshed, but instead of pulling on a dressing gown and reading, he re-dressed trousers and a crisp, white shirt with the sleeves rolled to the elbow.

She watched curiously at this new behaviour. It was almost like he was expecting a guest. The smaller two person sized table in the corner was pulled out, cleared of books, and draped in a simple black cloth. He hummed as he conjured pairs of small plates, wine glasses and napkins. Tonks racked her memory, thinking about when he had mentioned a guest, but came up blank. He had said, done and expressed no hint of a visitor that night. A smile quirked her invisible lips. Perhaps this was the secret she had been waiting for, a guest to reveal it all.

She looked back as he finished with a elegant tray of fine cheeses and soft baguette, and an unlabelled bottle of what appeared to be red wine. It looked like a romantic date, and she blushed at the idea of Snape's visitor being a lover. He went into his bedroom and in his arms was a soft, wool blanket bundled loosely. _If he puts that on the floor by the fire, I am so going to wretch._ A date was bad enough, but being in the same room as a couple being intimate was painful. Of course, her training covered it, but it did not make it less than repulsive.

But he did not put the blanket by the fire. He strolled precariously close to her shadow, and she shrank back, ready to bolt to another spot. The only expression on his face was a hint of amusement. She processed all her escape routes, and noted his behaviour to put in the report.

Suddenly he tossed the blanket over her head, and tackled her to the floor. She may have been invisible, but she was definitely solid. He crushed her with his body, immobilizing her limbs, and she did not bother to struggle to save herself the energy. He ran the hand that was not under her over her blanket-covered form, identifying his stalker. She did not make a single noise, but could not concentrated on changing her shape. Not with him where he was.

"I see, or rather feel, that I was right. Young, female and ministry trained." He stated, the blood pounding in her ears. All she could see was grey blanket, and all she could feel was the hard floor and his heavy body. There would be bruises tomorrow. He pulled himself up, keeping the blanket around her tightly as he dragged her to her feet. They stumbled as he pressed her into the chair at the table, but he could not conjure bonds without knowing where her limbs were. The problem was solved by him keeping her restrained with his body again, while sliding his hand until her found her leg, followed by her ankle. The arms he bound to the chair at the elbow.

She shivered at the touch, training flying through her head looking for tips of escape. She felt him move away, and pictured his head turning to survey the odd site of his invisible captive. It was almost comedic in her mind how much she must have appeared like a sheet-wrapped child costumed as a ghost. Almost.

"I suppose you would like to be able to see." He rumbled, the sound now coming from behind. She did not speak. Sight returned and the blanket disappeared. She saw the set table before her, and he took the opposite seat. After sitting back a moment, he uncorked and poured two glasses of wine, placing one within her stunted reach.

"Please feel free to refresh yourself, you may be here awhile." The invitation was punctuated by him taking a mouthful, and holding it to taste against his tongue. She did not move. He grew impatient, and set down the glass.

"Listen, I do not have all night to play games. You can either tell me who you are and who you work for, or you can enjoy some wine and pretend I did not just catch you sneaking around my chambers.

She reached for the glass, and took a tiny sip. The man was a potions master, after all, and who knew what was in it. A moment's trial revealed it as nothing more than good a good burgundy and she drank deeper. He lazily tore the bread in half, and then in pieces. She watched him slice a thin wedge of brie, and place it before her on the baguette. The tastes mingled pleasantly in her mouth. _What is he pulling, here?_ She pondered, still frightened. He had leaned back with his wine again, watching what he could see of her speculatively.

"Congratulations, Madame, the Order has just deemed you worthy of the title of spy." She choked on his words. He continued in a smug drawl. "This was your final test, and you have passed it adequately. My job in this is to alert Dumbledore as soon as I sense I am being watched, and normally I can find them within a day or so. He tells me you have nearly completed the two weeks, and I have noticed nothing to hint at your presence until today." The bonds vanished, but she stayed put. Tonks was starting to feel pretty offended. Dumbledore had toyed with her.

"I do not want to know your name, and I do not want you to reveal yourself. I just wanted to make sure you were treated properly in this victory." He poured her more wine, and pushed over another slice of topped bread. Strawberries appeared with a flick of his wand. "Perhaps something sweet?" Something odd clicked in her very confused mind, and she spoke, causing his eyes to widen slightly.

"Severus Snape, are you trying to seduce me?" The idea was crazy, and her voice stumbled over the words.

"Yes." He answered blandly, no trace of embarrassment as he gazed into the ruby depths of the liquid.

"Why." She demanded. He responded by getting up and crouching behind her chair. He felt gently into the air with his hand until his fingers met her bare neck, and they slide up to her short hair. There was a long, painful silence that he broke with a casual air.

"Because you are good. You are very good. You clearly excel at this game. That pleases me." His lips whispered down her throat, and she felt much too warm. _Why not?_ Said a traitorous voice in her head. _Have some fun. He does not know who you are, and the man does clean up nice._ His hand traced a path down her back, and up again. She stood up suddenly, torn between running away and a lusty romp with a man she despised, but who was way too sexy for his own good. _Alright, compromise. A little bit of fun, but nothing serious._ Her decision made her want to giggle, and she watched his hand look like it was gliding over nothing as it was really hugging her curves,

Tonks turned to face him, and wrapped an arm around his shoulders to pull him down for a kiss. _This is so weird. Two weeks ago he was nothing but a bastard, now, my tongue is in his mouth._ She knew what he wanted tonight, and it was starting to become very apparent that he was enjoying himself. She had no intention of being part of that, but for now she would enjoy her victory, and the reward he had offered.

The evening passed oddly fast, and though there was very little in the way of speaking they both had a good time alternating competitive rounds of board games in front of the fire, where they would laugh and accuse each other of cheating, and thoughtless kissing. She stayed invisible, and when the clock hit midnight Severus Snape still had no idea who she was.

She left with a last kiss tingling on his lips, and escaped with only a little regret back into the shadows of the hall. _Well, even if it was just a training session, Dumbledore will certainly find my report interesting_, she thought with an impish smirk.


	2. Will

Tonks was still glowing a little from her less-than-professional evening with acknowledged bastard, Severus Snape. It had been over a week, and she still caught the scent of him in the air, which she was certain was entirely in her head, because one does not normally smell his particular combination of musk, potions ingredients and fine wine just walking down the street.

The people closest to her, those friends from Hogwarts who too had masochistically chosen Auror training, had noticed this un-Tonks-like aura, and pulled her aside after duty one night to the Leaky Cauldron. They sat at a rustic booth, and after Tom left the gently steaming pitcher of Butterbeer and a few glasses, they pounced. Try as Nymphadora might, she could not throw them off the idea that a man was involved. The terrible blushing didn't exactly help either.

A few nights after that, when she was peeling off her Auror robes, taking care not to touch the singed left cuff that was still thick with corrosive goo, she recalled the meeting at 12 Grimmauld Place. It was that very night. Her cursing quickly switched from the wizard who had sent the ministry a leaky sample of a suspicious, chemically-unstable toilet cleaner to the wizard who was leaving suspicious effects on her cheeks every time she thought of him.

She would see Snape tonight. Not just see him, but sit near him, converse with him, be expected to act as if nothing had happened. She groaned. All he would have to do would be to recognize her voice and she was toast. She had given Dumbledore her _complete_ report, as requested, and for all she knew he was still the only other person who knew what had happened. But what if Snape found out. Would he be angry? Disgusted?

Tonks paced around her cramped living area, knocking over a pile of magazines that she didn't even notice until they were underfoot and sending her feet over head to the floor. Even then, she lay on the floor in a daze while the stars cleared. Firstly, she needed new carpet, this was not nearly thick enough. Secondly, how was she to act around Snape tonight to keep him in the dark? Her spy training acted under the assumption that as a greenie she would not have interacted with the person she was watching, so she was not even formally ready for this situation yet. Thirdly, what if Snape knew it had been her?

She got up slowly, absently testing her body bit by bit for injury as was her habit. Her mind was stuck on question three as she finished changing. What if?

The meeting had just started when Tonks rang the bell outside 12 Grimmauld Place, and after Remus had fought Mrs Black down, it resumed as soon as she entered the room. There were only two chairs left at the large scrubbed table, littered with drinking vessels, plates of crumbs and random documents. Each chair sat to either side of a certain feared and generally disliked potions master.

_Bugger all. _She slipped into the chair, only banging her knee on the table leg once. He gave her a single dark glance, and turned back to listen to what ever Albus was saying.

" É and then of course the house elves will need to be given wands. Ollivander has agreed, with the understanding that it will be illegal unless Minister Fudge repeals the antiquated notion of

Snape shifted beside her, and a whiff of his scent was carried to her nose. It was going to be a long meeting.

"Tonks, a word before you go, if you've got the time." Dumbledore's voice stopped her at the door, interrupting her conflicting emotions of relief and disappointment. _Make time _was what his tone implied. She had already said her goodbyes, so she followed the tall wizard into a side study and shut the door behind them.

He settled comfortably into a large wingback chair, and she stood by the window, leaning back against the frame.

"I certain you know why I've asked you here." He pulled a familiar roll of turquoise parchment from his robes.

"The colour does give it away, Sir." She respond, trying to give nothing away.

"What you may not know is that it has always been my policy with Professor Snape to give him a copy of the report from every student who accepts this training assignment.

"It's only fair after allÉ" Tonks said faintly, feeling like the world had slapped her with a dead haddock.

"I've already spoken to Professor Snape about what happened, and he agreed it was most unprofessional.

"Of course, Sir." Forget the fish, the world was downright spinning backwards now. Dumbledore stood up to leave, but turned back at the threshold.

"He also said that he had fun, and said that he had no regrets." With a wink, the old wizard left Tonks sitting in the rapidly darkening study, lost in thought. She turned to the window and gazed out at the unimpressive view of another dingy house, and a pair of squirrels squabbling over a dustbin.

_Snape knows. Holy crap. Snape knows. There's no if. Snape knows. What is he thinking? Damn it, Snape knows! _Her mind continued to work as she brushed a tickle off of her bare neck. _But what was it Albus said? Snape said he had fun, and had no regrets. No regrets, well that's nic- what the hell? Snape said he had _fun_? Since when does that man know the meaning of fun, let alone admit having it? I watched him for two weeks, and if I saw any signs of him having fun I'll eat my favourite _Weird Sisters_ shirt! Hmm, no regretsÉ does that mean that- _ The thought was cut off by another tickle on her neck, this one stronger.

She stood perfectly still, listening. There was a whisper of cloth against cloth, and then a warm breeze just below her ear. She shivered in response, her hand rising to meet the tender spot. Hot ghostly fingers clasped hers and guided them back down to the window frame. Then those same fingers gently caressed the length of her pale neck, moved up into her pink spikes before trailing down her spine in a lazy line until they reached the curve of her waist, and rested on her hip. The other hand came up, traced her jaw with a touch so soft that her body shuddered.

Soon arms joined hands, and the heat of lean-muscled limbs wrapped themselves around her like a silk ribbon around a gift, slowly pulling her backwards into a solid mass of warmth. Her breath caught as his characteristic scent flooded her senses, and she felt his hair smooth against her neck as he bent his head down to her ear.

"You know who am I, do you not?" The whisper slid down her skin and she shifted in his arms, feeling him against her back. The rise and fall of his chest as he breathed was chasing coherent thought away.

"Of course." She breathed back, lifting her chin when he nuzzled her neck. She raised her own hand back up and felt along his soft hair until she found his own neck. It too was hot, and a little stubbly. She twined her fingers around loose, invisible strands she knew were the blackest of black. In response, he placed his placed his warm lips against her skin, where her jaw met her neck, and heard him inhale sharply before he began to gently caress the sensitive area. His skilled mouth left her knees weaker with every touch, each hot and whisper soft, until finally she gasped out, unable to control her desire for this seductive creature.

Her gasp undid him, and he responded into her tender arch and into her ear.

_Nymphadora._" He moaned, and it didn't occur to her to correct him. Some how the horribly pompous and ridiculous name made sense in this situation. She turned herself in his arms, and could feel his heart pounding against her shoulder.

"I want to see you, Severus." His name trembled out of her mouth like quivering liquid. She felt cool air rush against her back as his hand lifted away from where it held her. He spoke the words, and with a shiver became visible once again. The first thing she saw were his polished black eyes, piercing, dark and filled with emotion that on the surface she would call desire. She tipped her head up to meet his incoming kiss, impatient and wanting. His eyes didn't close as his face neared hers, but instead he searched her face for sincerity, for something in her eyes that would give him hope.

Across the room the door knob jiggled.

"I locked and bespelled the door." He breathed, so close to her mouth that she could already taste him. Their lips touched for the barest of seconds before-

"Fred and George Weasley, if I have told you once than I have told you a thousand times that I will not allow for your ridiculous product experimentation in this house! Open this door immediately!" Molly Weasley pounded on the door forcefully, and began to count down from five. Inside the room, the couple's eyes met, and in a heartbeat were apparating into another little-used room of 12 Grimmauld Place.

The mood unbroken, the intensity still peaked, their mouth finally met in a passionate battle to merge themselves through a fiery kiss. Severus pulled her tighter against him, and she wrapped her arms around his shoulders. Thoughts straggled drunkenly through her mind. _He's mine, and I'm not giving him up. I want him, I claim him, he's mine. But this is insane. We barely know each other. Oh well, that will come with time. He's so very mine._

His talent at the exercise was evident, and she's never been kissed so thoroughly in her life. When the kiss, if it was possible, was heating up even more, their hands began to wander, and it was then that the door burst open.

A very flustered Molly Weasley stood at the door, wand in one hand, and smashed bottle of Butterbeer lying on the floor below the other.


End file.
